Fueling the Fire
by Love.Nicolette
Summary: Sometimes when there's no one left, you're drawn to the only one who shares your darkest secrets. Only the strong can survive, and his fire fuels her own. -Kat/Cato- *LemonyLove* -Well written romantic smut- Very minor plot variations from book.
1. Chapter 1

***Lemons, Angst, Smut and plenty of well written romance is all I can promise you***

**Readers of my 'Waking Up' Peeta/Katniss story have no need to fear. I promise I will continue to update every few days, just like I always have!**

**I just want to say that I'm an avid Peeta/Katniss fan, but I love reading new stories that allow my mind to open up and see how different things could have been if there were slight changes. I can only hope that you do too! Plus, I love the potential for fire between Katniss and Cato. Cato is sexy, strong, capable and talented, just like Katniss! They're a good match ;)**

**This story will follow the books for the most part, the only difference being that, of course, Peeta dies, Cato lives, and the rebellion happens a little sooner than in the books. Enjoy and remember to REVIEW, so that I know you want me to keep writing on this story!**

**Love . Nicolette**

**ox Chapter 1 xo**

**Katniss' POV**

What else could I have done?

This is the question that occupies my thoughts, every second, every minute, every hour of every day.

What else could I have done?

I close my eyes and recount those life changing events. How can I live through thinking about it, you might ask? With painful ragged breaths. One in. One out. Repeat.

I spent nearly three days on top of that cornucopia. The Gamemakers still sent blistering heat throughout the day, heat that turned the interior of the cornucopia into a massive makeshift oven. Making the smell from the body within absolutely unbearable. The nights brought freezing cold, but they must have wanted me to live, because it never got quite cold enough to stop the blood from pumping through my veins.

I couldn't decide if this was a good or a bad thing.

I also couldn't bring myself to move away from my perch on the cornucopia. Knowing the mutts made frequent rounds on the ground below and would surely be back to finish me off. If I die then he will have won and Peeta will have died in vain.

On the second day they sent me rain. In my weakened state I still somehow managed to lay back and open my mouth, drinking in what happened to fall my way. Surely I would die soon, just drift away in the dead of night, hopefully in my sleep, not realizing that I let Peeta's killer win.

But who am I kidding?

In reality, I am Peeta's killer.

Although it was night, you could hardly tell. The full moon hung high in the sky, lighting everything it touched as if it were the sun.

The threats that I shouted meant absolutely nothing to Cato, you could see the crazed look in his eyes. The inevitability of his impending death was no secret to him. He was a man who had nothing else to lose, and with the last few breaths allotted to him, he was going to murder my partner. Since he couldn't murder me.

I stood with bow string stretched taut, ready to fire. My feet slid nervously on the smooth metallic surface of the cornucopia, trying to find purchase. My mind fought a desperate internal battle, trying to decide what would be the best course of action. Of course I thought of nothing, if I shot Cato in the head, he would drag Peeta down with him. If I did nothing, he would strangle Peeta to death. I watched helplessly as the life began to drain from Peeta's eyes. But as they began rolling into the back of his head, Peeta began to make a strange gesture with his arm. Something that looked like he was pointing toward Cato's hand.

Cato's finely toned right arm was wrapped tightly around Peeta's neck. I watched the tendons in his arm flex as they fought to completely cut off Peeta's supply of oxygen. Peeta was turning several shades of blue, and to be honest, I'm not sure now if he was even coherent enough to make any kind of gesture at all. The memory seems tainted somehow, it seems like every time I try to imagine what he was trying to tell me with his hand, it looks different in my mind. Sometimes it seems like he was definitely telling me to shoot Cato's hand. Sometimes it seems like he was just struggling madly for his life, arms flailing in one last desperate attempt to save himself.

But something that he did in that moment must have convinced me beyond a shadow of a doubt that Peeta wanted me to try shooting Cato in the hand. Because that's exactly what I did.

It didn't work, of course. Cato was shocked, he stumbled backward, still managing to grab Peeta and take him down with him to the hard unforgiving ground at the opening of the cornucopia. I ran forward and tried desperately to latch on to Peeta, and caught the front of his shirt, but realizing that I was going to go down with them...

I let go.

I let go and watched helplessly from above as the mutts descended upon Peeta and Cato. I watched in horror while the largest one latched onto Peeta's neck, shaking him like a rag doll while another mutt sunk it's teeth deep into Peeta's leg.

I looked away.

I heard a cannon sound.

Peeta was dead.

I sat for a long time. Not crying. Not thinking. Not moving. Listening to the noises of the mutts below, listening to some kind of struggle, I hear one of the dogs yelp in agony and my eyes fly open. Was Peeta alive? Perhaps it was Cato's cannon I had heard? But no, Cato had managed to rip the arrow I had shot out of the back of his hand. Driving it deep into the skull of one of the mutts, before ripping it back out and lashing out at the others. Blood flew. Mutts yelped.

I wondered how he could possibly still be alive, when I see the moon reflected in his back.

Oh right. The body armor.

I think for a moment that maybe I can kill him with my final arrow, end these horrible games, allow myself to go back to Prim. I reach over my shoulder and pull out my final lifeline. Placing it in the bow and prepare to shoot. Aiming for Cato's head.

I watch as a mutt sit back on it's haunches, preparing to lunge and snap Cato's neck with it's deadly incisors.

I let the arrow fly.

Cato turns his body at the sound of an arrow hitting thick flesh.

I missed.

His eyes dart from the arrow sticking out of the eye of the mutt behind him, and then up to me for a split second. Then he immediately turns back around to the other mutts. He swipes the arrow in his hand at the other three waiting to tear him apart, but moves over to yank the arrow from the one I've killed.

He doesn't look my way again.

He just begins to run towards the lake. Running like mad, running like the athlete he's surely been trained his entire life to be. Two of the mutts follow him, one stays to gnaw on what's left of Peeta's corpse. Pulling him underneath me, inside the cornucopia. Two more of the beasts pace around on the ground below me. Waiting for me to descend. Which I won't.

I spend all night rocking back and forth on the cold metal of the cornucopia, hugging my knees to my chest. My body wracked in sobs, shaking from the cold. Listening to the horrible sound of cracking bones as a mutt cuts it's teeth on Peeta's bones below me.

I wait for Cato's cannon to sound.

But it doesn't come.

**xoxo**

**Cato's POV**

The mutts don't swim very well. They launch themselves into the water. But something about the way that their body is designed keeps them from being able to stay treading water for more than a few seconds. Unfortunately, they do manage not to drown. But apparently they aren't willing to try and swim out to me, some kind of instinct to survive must be imbedded deep inside of them, because they head back to shore every time.

Of course, this won't last for long. I can't stay here for any real length of time.

I lie on my back, taking deep slow breaths to keep myself afloat in the center of the lake.

I don't like lying here. It makes me feel weak and defenseless. Which of course, is exactly what I am. I'm out of control of the situation. The worst part is I can hear them stepping back from the waters edge and running full-speed to launch themselves at me, splashing in the water not far from me. Jaws clamping viciously a few feet from my face, before they sink, and emerge a few minutes later, soaking wet on the shore from which they came. But I can't turn my head to look at them. Every time I even let out a breath my body begins to sink below the surface of the water. I'm forced to take a quick breath, hold it for as long as I can, and then let the air out quickly so I can pull in another breath. It's slowly making me dizzy. The armor is lightweight, but certainly not weightless. It threatens with each exhale to pull my body down and never let me return to the surface.

But what other choices do I have?

I try again to pull my hand out of the water. Letting it rest on my chest, hoping that the wound will close up and stop bleeding soon. It's superficial, yes. When out of the water and wrapped in a dry fabric. But the water keeps washing away any of the clotting my body has been able to do, and the perfect hole that that District Twelve scum's arrow created in my hand threatens to bleed me out if it doesn't scab over soon.

I close my eyes. Then snap them back open. I can't fall asleep.

The monsters seem to have stopped trying to jump into the lake. But they still circle, knowing that I have to leave the water soon. I realize that the temperature is relatively warmer than it was the night before. I know that the Gamemakers aren't doing this to help me, who's soaking wet and in freezing water. But the District Twelve bitch, who's probably still perched on top of the cold metal of the cornucopia.

I wonder if she was aiming for me and shot the muttation on accident. Or if she felt pity on me and tried to help. Stupid, weak girl.

A flash of the deep brown eyes of the muttation that I stabbed with that arrow flash across my brain. Now I actually do close my eyes tight.

_'They were not Clove's eyes. They were not Clove's eyes. They were not Clove's eyes.'_

The mantra plays over and over in my mind, but it's not convincing.

I think about how pathetic I must look to my family and tutors back home. Floating in a lake of water, hiding in the open. What an awful weakling I am. I wish I could hide myself from the cameras that are no doubt watching my every movement. I will most likely be dead by morning and I hate that the last few moments of my life will be shrouded in embarrassment and shame.

But I'm terrified.

More terrified than I've ever been in my entire life.

The great Cato. Reduced to a quivering terrified little boy. Floating on the surface of a lake to avoid being mauled by puppies. What a disgrace I am.

The muttations have settled down, sitting quietly, watching me on the water. Barely making a noise, if it weren't for their wet ragged breaths, I wouldn't even know they were there.

If I listen carefully when I'm holding my breath, I can hear the sobs from the girl on the cornucopia.

If she loved him so much, why doesn't she just throw herself to the dogs? Why doesn't she just end her misery instead of embarrassing herself on national television.

She'll be the most pathetic victor in Panem's history, next to that Annie Cresta who simply managed to not drown. And went completely and utterly mad during the games.

_'They were not Clove's eyes. They were not Clove's eyes.'_

I'm not sure how long I've been floating, but it feels like days. Although the sun hasn't come up. I realize I can't hear the panting of those strange dogs anymore and allow myself to stop floating long enough to look around.

They're gone.

Surely it's a trick. I'm not stupid. I know how popular that District Twelve girl is. I know that they would much rather have her as a victor than me. They're trying to lure me out.

But what choice do I have?

I gently wade over to the edge of the lake, to a place that I can sit, while still being mostly submerged in the water. I can't bring myself to leave the safety of it. Although, I'm not really very safe unless I'm far out in the middle of the lake.

I stop and listen carefully for any rustle of a leaf, any snap of a branch, any indication at all that the dogs lie in waiting for me. I wait for a full ten minutes. Hearing nothing, but the distant sobs of the girl on the cornucopia.

It's now or never. I reach behind me and yank out the two arrows that I've collected. My only weapons now. I break them in half. Taking the top halves with the sharp metal arrow heads. I toss the remains of the arrows into the lake behind me.

I rip off two long shreds of the hem of my shirt. Holding the arrow tight in my left hand while I wrap the fabric around and around with my right, securing it tightly to my hand. I fumble with my right, trying to do the same with it. Using my teeth to maneuver the fabric around. I realize that it isn't possible to knot it and give up. My mind can't think clearly with the cold, and the fear. My body isn't used to the fear. I've never had much reason to be afraid in my life. Not since I hit puberty anyway.

I stand up and take two steps out of the lake with the arrows in hand. One fastened tight to my left and gripping the other with my right as if my life depends on it, and it probably does.

Behind me I hear something growl. I have no chance of running, no chance of swimming back out to the middle of the lake. And even with all this preparation, I don't feel as if I can take down the remaining mutts by hand.

The only option I have is to climb; climb for my life.

I remember briefly trying to climb up a tree earlier in the games to kill the fire girl. I simply ended up embarrassing myself when the limbs broke beneath my boots. I hope that isn't what's about to happen right now.

I take off full speed towards the nearest sturdy tree. I hear one of the mutts lunge at me at their teeth snap mercilessly at my heels.

A few feet away from the tree I take a flying leap. My body hits the tree hard and I ram both arrows into the trunk, firmly planting myself about 5 feet high. I wince as I feel my right hand dig into the arrow head itself with the force of my impact, but I have no time to dwell.

The mutts can jump too. Ridiculously high, one has latched onto my foot and I struggle to kick it off. I see the other in the distance running towards me ready to leap onto me and pull me from the tree. I have to climb.

I pull the right arrow out of the trunk of the tree and reach up to plant it a foot higher, using nothing but the muscles in my arms to drag myself up the tree. I do this again and again, climbing slowly. One of the muttations is still latched onto my leg, and I'm surprised that it hasn't torn it clean off. The only thing keeping it from doing just that is the body armor that protects my skin.

I send up a whispered 'Thanks for the body armor'. Still, for some reason, playing to the crowd. Even when I know that no more help from sponsors will come in these last hours before the end of the games.

Time drags and every muscle in my body aches. My arms are threatening to give way when I finally reach the first thick branch of the tree. Nearly 20 feet high. The dogs are far below me now, except for the one that I've been dragging up the tree with me. I gave up attempting to kick him off nearly an hour ago. Every once in a while he moves his teeth around, scraping the body armor, and I can feel his tongue lapping at the blood dripping from my foot.

I literally can't wait to reach the branch so I can bury an arrow into his skull.

Which is exactly what I do.

**xoxo**

**Katniss' POV**

Two days later, it happened.

Something that both saved me and doomed me.

I was lying on death's door. I knew it was coming. I hadn't eaten, my body was weak, I had only drank a few gulps of water that I managed to get down during the rain storm. I had no idea where Cato was or if he was still alive. For all I knew he was back at the Capitol, enjoying some lamb and plum stew. Watching me die out here on this cold metal symbol of the Hunger Games.

I noticed that I couldn't hear the noises of the mutts anymore, but they have been coming and going for hours on end.

Off in the distance I hear a mockingjay make the call that alerts me a hovercraft is near by. It materializes noisily above my head and I look up at it. It looks fuzzy and I can't quite make out what's happening. My second experience with dehydration in the games.

Did it come to collect Peeta's body? Did they get tired of waiting for me to move from my post? I watch the ladder descend down next to my body and realize, I must have won. I must not have heard the cannon, but Cato must be dead.

I somehow manage to roll to my side, reaching out and wrapping my weak fingers around the bottom rung of the ladder. This is enough, my body freezes and I'm pulled inside. When I reach the top, I'm deposited into a large stainless steel room. I realize I'm not alone, it doesn't take long before my eyes catch the most terrifying sight I've ever seen.

Cato.

He's sitting on the floor across from me with his back propped up against the wall. One of my arrows is strapped to his hand. He looks at me with furious, deep blue eyes and I watch him fumble to stand, he's covered in blood and sweat and dirt. His foot looks mutilated and sits in a pool of blood. Blood smears along the floor when he drags himself toward me. I panic. I'm lying on the floor, but I try to use my arms to slide my body over to the opposite wall of the metallic room. He's moving slowly, he looks weak and sick. He winces as he drags his injured foot along the floor.

Did the Gamemakers get fed up with us hiding from the mutts and decide to force us to fight to the death in a hovercraft hurdling towards the Capitol?

"Tributes are to remain seated. _Away_ from one another."

A female's voice calls to us from a loudspeaker mounted to the wall.

Cato stops moving, but doesn't sit, still glaring at me with dark, hate-filled eyes. I know he can see the fear in mine, but I don't care. My mind is going wild.

What the hell is going on?

A loud noise erupts around us and the hovercraft rocks to the right harshly. The lights flicker. I notice the change in Cato's expression, from hate to fear in a split second. We sit still for a moment, when another explosion causes the hovercraft to tilt again. I watch as Cato loses his balance and begins to fall but before he hits the floor, the lights go out.

**xoxo**

**I've had this story in my head for literally days, I decided to type up the first chapter and post it even though I'm still working on my Katniss/Peeta fic.**

**I have big big big big plans for this little beauty! Expect lemons, drama and absolutely no OOC writing. (The biggest killer of fanfics in my opinion.)**

**So review and let me know if you want me to continue!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I simply can't get this story out of my head! I hope by reading this chapter you'll realize where I hope to go with this story, which is believable, nitty-gritty smut. Wonderful, sexy, hot strong, Cato induced smut. **

**Which is pretty much the best kind of smut. Enjoy and REVIEW!**

**Love . Nicolette**

**xo Chapter 2 ox**

**Cato's POV**

I have no idea what's going on.

The explosions have stopped, but somewhere in another compartment of the hovercraft I can hear several alarms sounding. No one has bothered to tell us what the hell is going on since they told us to stay away from each other. The main lights are still off, but a small emergency light is illuminating the room in a faint blue glow.

The District Twelve girl sits on the ground across from me. Knees pulled up to her chest with her face buried in her arms. I can't quite tell, but I'm pretty sure she's still crying.

You'd think the several days of sobbing on top of the cornucopia would have been enough. I roll my eyes. I slowly start to pull off the fabric that had held the arrow onto my hand for so long. It's somehow become imbedded in my skin. I wince as I tug at it, realizing that I'm pulling off quite a bit of scabbing and dead skin along with the actual fabric.

About half way through pulling it off I realize I probably shouldn't. No announcement was made to declare the games over, Katniss is obviously still alive. The Hunger Games are still on. Maybe they're just taking us to another arena.

To be honest I had assumed when the hovercraft appeared near me in my tree that Katniss had died after all. That I had won.

But then we stopped and picked her up. You can't imagine how upsetting that was.

Something must be wrong. I've seen every tape of every Hunger Games since they began, and not once were the tributes removed from the arena before twenty-three of them were pronounced dead.

And obviously, we shouldn't be in what's probably a badly damaged hovercraft, hurdling through the air with no lights on.

Maybe the Gamemakers are waiting to see who will kill the other first. Maybe this is some kind of new twist, to make things more exciting. I'm sure we were pretty boring, hiding on our perches for the last few days. Maybe they're just going to leave us in this room until one of us dies of hunger.

I look over to the girl sitting across from me. I know that before we were attacked by the mutts that her and loverboy were eating quite a bit better than I was. I'm fairly sure my tutors tried to instruct me on what plants and things were edible during my victor training, but I never really paid very much attention to those lessons. It's common for tributes from districts 1, 2 and 4 to get most of the supplies from inside the cornucopia in the beginning, and often this is more than enough to sustain them until the end of the games. Which was my intention.

I grit my teeth, wondering if this small, frail girl in front of me may have had something to do with our supplies being blown up.

I shake my head. That doesn't matter. None of it matters. She's the only thing standing between me and victory. What I've been working towards since I turned 8 years old is within my grasp. If I kill her now, that will be it. I'm the victor. I win the 74th hunger games.

I try to remember what she looked like before the games. Long dark hair, strange silver eyes, different than any eyes I've never seen. She was thin, not as thin as she is now, obviously, but thin nonetheless. She had a very light tread. Before the games I assumed that perhaps she got such a high score due to her stealthiness. Sometimes the ability to creep around can be considered a huge advantage in the games.

A flash of Katniss runs across my vision, arrow set in bow string, jaw tight, a perfect archers stance, one eye closed, the other silver and gleaming in the moonlight, lining her arrow up in what would have been a flawless fatal blow to my head.

There's not a doubt in my mind that she wouldn't have missed.

She could have killed me so easily.

It's only now that I realize that she truly must have cared a great deal for loverboy. I try to imagine if I would done the same as Katniss if the roles were reversed and she had held Clove in a headlock.

I almost laugh out loud, this frail little girl in front of me would have been dead before she got within ten feet of Clove.

_Clove._

I small noise draws me out of my pondering. I realize quickly that it must have escaped Katniss' throat from across the room. I can tell from here that she's shaking, she still keeps her face hidden from the world. From me.

I roll my eyes again. Could she still be playing to the audience? Could someone really manage to fall in love with another tribute while battling to the death in the hunger games? Should I simply kill her now, before we get to another arena? She's supposedly so ridiculously popular, or at least she'd gained an amazing amount of support before the games began, would the gamemakers simply hand the girl a bow and tell her to have at me?

As if reading my mind she suddenly looks up. Straight at me. I can't make out the expression on her face, I can't tell if she really was crying. The very dim light does little to give me any details of her face. She simply looks up with cold grey eyes. Right at me, as if making sure that I'm not coming after her. And then puts her head back into her arms, hiding her face once again.

The Gamemakers would probably frown upon us attacking each other when they told us to stay away from one another, anyway.

A strange humming starts reverberating around the room. The hovercraft rocking from side to side before a loud thud shakes the ground. I get the feeling that we just made a very faulty landing, although I can't be sure.

District Twelve's head snaps up and she looks wildly around the room. We both sit unmoving for several moments before one of the panels of the wall nearest to Katniss slides open. She panics and slides as far away from the door as possible.

After a few more moments of waiting, three figures dressed in white doctor's garb walk into the room. Two of them walking over towards me.

"Hold still Cato." One says to me, but I don't know what kind of strange trick this is. My mind is still in survival mode and I attempt to stand on my injured foot. One of the doctors grab me by the arm and I quickly jab the arrow head into their hand. I hear the man shout and release me. I hold the arrowhead like a knife, threatening the other doctor with it. He backs away slowly.

"What are you trying to do?" I ask. I feel like I'm being reasonable. Don't I deserve some kind of explanation?

"Cato, we need to sedate you to move you into the hospital ward. The games are on hiatus for now." He's trying to reason with me. For some reason, I can't bring myself to believe him.

I see over his shoulder the third doctor holding District 12 in his arms. Apparently she didn't struggle. She's knocked out cold, her head hanging back, mouth open in a deep sleep.

Or maybe she's dead.

How should I know which?

But before I have time to dwell, I feel a jab in my side. The world starts to go black. I feel a pain shoot up my leg and realize I've dropped heavily to my knees.

"Asshole."

I see the doctor who's hand I stabbed holding a syringe in his uninjured hand, he whispers profanities at me under his breath. I smile a bit. Not many people would get stabbed by me and then risk getting near enough to me to get stabbed again.

And all at once, the world goes black.

**xoxo**

**Katniss' POV**

"He probably won't wake up for another couple of hours, they had to up his dosage to knock him out. He was running on a lot of adrenaline. If he does wake up before we come back and gives you any problems, just hit your alarm."

The nurse points down to the small illuminated button on the side of my bed. I nod to acknowledge that I heard her and she smiles and walks away.

As soon as the doctor left the room after treating Cato and I, the nurse, her name is Kerin, asked me if I knew anything about a rebellion in District Twelve. I haven't heard anything of the kind of course, and even if I had I wouldn't share it with her. There's no one in the Capitol I trust. Not even Cinna.

According to her, the Hunger Games were put on hiatus. Apparently some band of rebels from the districts were launching some kind of attack on the Capitol. The Capitol had intercepted a message that lead them to believe that they meant to kidnap the remaining tributes in the Hunger Games. Namely, me and Cato. The Capitol decided it was best to be safe and move us away from the arena since they had reason to believe the rebels knew it's location.

Apparently the explosions we heard while on-board the hovercraft were the rebels attacking.

I asked about my family and she told me she didn't know, but would try to find out. I wanted to ask about Peeta's family too, but I wasn't sure if I could talk about it without bringing on a fresh round of misery. Before she left she asked me not to repeat any of the information to Cato. I wonder if she has something to do with the rebellion. I wonder if she's some kind of Capitol spy trying to pump me for information. But considering I don't know anything about any kind of rebellion, I don't have much to worry about.

They haven't mentioned anything else about the games. Who was declared winner, if we'll be forced to go back into the arena at some point.

I feel a shudder run down my spine at the thought.

The hospital ward we're sitting in is extremely small, only four beds. Cato lays in the bed kitty-corner to mine, his arms strapped to the hard plastic arms of his hospital bed. Even with all the time spent in the games, Cato looks as if he's been chiseled from stone. Like some kind of greek god sent to Earth. He's absolutely inhuman, his arms almost as big as my torso, something tells me that if he wants to get out of those restraints, he won't have any problem. I suppose spending your entire life doing nothing but training to enter the hunger games and murder a bunch of malnourished children will do that to a boy. I can't help but feel a stab of hatred kick against my chest.

So much for me getting any rest, if I have to lie here and watch to make sure he isn't going to get up and murder me in my sleep.

The image of Peeta's eyes as he watched me just before he fell off the cornucopia flashes across my vision. I close my eyes.

Maybe I would be better off if Cato killed me.

How can I live with myself knowing that I'm responsible for Peeta's death?

I don't think I can.

**xoxo**

**Cato's POV**

My head feels like hell.

My body feels heavy and sore... and well... like hell.

I try to open my eyes, but everything looks hazy and warped. I open and close them several times, attempting to clear my vision, but with little success.

I hear a groan echo in the room around me and realize after a moment that it was my own.

"Oh, you're awake!" I hear a woman's voice far to my right. I can barely make her out in the darkened room. I try to lift my hands up to rub my eyes and realize I'm strapped down to the bed.

Nothing could clear my vision faster. My heart immediately kicks into overdrive and my mind begins to panic as I try to pull my arm free even harder. Hearing the bed groan in protest and sending utensils from the table next to me shattering to the floor.

"Please don't! Cato hold still!" The nurse is shouting, holding her clipboard to her chest in fear.

"Why am I strapped in?"

I am vaguely aware of District 12's gaze from a bed across the room. I realize after a moment that she isn't strapped down.

"UNSTRAP ME!" I shout. Trying again to yank my arm free. Nearly pulling the arm of the bed from it's frame. The nurse moves nervously out of the room, her heels clicking furiously against the hard marble floor.

"They're going to sedate you again if you don't stop."

Hearing Katniss speak, I am momentarily frozen. She looks at me with those cold eyes and I feel the anger bubble up in my veins. Why is she allowed to sit there free from any bindings while I'm trapped like some kind of animal? The Gamemakers have taken their favoritism too far this time.

"DON'T FUCKING TALK TO ME!" I shout, yanking on the restraints yet again and this time popping the left arm rest clean off the bed. I reach over and begin pulling on the right, trying desperately to pull my other arm free as well.

"We're not in the arena anymore! Calm down!" She shouts back, she sounds confident, but I can see the panic in her eyes. She has good reason to be afraid. But before I can yank my second arm free, two doctors run into the room. They rush over toward me, no syringes this time, but instead of getting close enough for me to hit them with the arm of the bed hanging from my left arm, they walk over to a console on the wall and touch a button. Before I have time to realize that they're sedating me through the tubes connected to my arms, the world goes dark again.

**xoxo**

When my eyes open, I'm sitting in a holding cell. The only reason I know this is because I've been held in cells just like these several times in my life. Mostly when I got in trouble at the training center back in District 2. I'm lying in a large bed that's a good 15 feet off the ground. A hover cube hangs in the air near the foot of the bed. The two walls nearest to me are a smooth solid white, a large air duct is set into the wall several feet to my left. Blowing freezing cold air around the room. Just like the training center cells back home, I know the cold air is supposed to keep us calm. I can guarantee you it doesn't work.

I look down and see that someone has changed my clothes. I'm wearing a form fitting white shirt and a pair of baggy, white, cloth capris. My feet are bare, but a strange contraption has been fitted around my ankle.

It's grey in color and has no seams, it's not very heavy, but it's bulky. I wonder if when I walk my other foot will kick it.

I realize that they've patched my injured foot up nicely. You honestly couldn't tell that it had been mauled by some kind of crazy dog muttation just a few days ago. I wasn't sure what the extent of the damage done to it was, but I'm sure it was pretty bad considering the pain and amount of bleeding.

Looking at my surroundings I can see the ground below me holds nothing but a large black rug that covers the white marble floor in the center of the room, and a large, black, comfortable looking chair sits in the far corner. The wall farthest from me is made of a kind of see-through plastiglass, exactly like the cells at the training center. I wonder for a moment if we are actually back home in District Two. On the other side of the plastiglass, I can make out a large white room with several machines. I'm not sure what they're for. The holding cells at home are made purely for punishment. At home we can only see the lounge of the other victors in training, enjoying their day while you're trapped alone in your cell.

But there are no victors in training here, only the nurse that I scared earlier, messing with one of the machines farthest from me.

The fourth wall isn't a wall at all, tall silver bars, set about 6 inches apart each separate my cell from another. This too is different from back home. There you have no contact with anyone. Here I can hear whoever is in the cell next to me moving around. It doesn't take long for me to realize that it's District Twelve, sitting up from a bed identical to mine. She begins looking around the room, taking in her surroundings, just like I am. She probably has no idea what kind of cage she's in. At least I hold an advantage here. I look away before she can catch my gaze.

The nurse in the next room finally turns her head to look at me. I watch as she walks up to the area between District Twelve's cell and mine and flips a switch. This is exactly like the communication devices used in the cells back home.

"Hello there! President Snow himself is on his way here right this very minute to answer any questions you may have. I'm not really allowed to tell you anything, but I'm glad you're both awake!" She steps away from the communicator and walks a few feet away, before turning around and pushing the button to speak to us again. "I'll have some food sent in for you once he leaves, in case you're hungry." Then she walks back over to the machine she was messing with before.

I scoot over to the hovercube next to my bed. I situate myself to sit on top of it and then press my palms against the sides. It responds accordingly and lowers me to the floor of my cell. I slip off of it and decide to try walking around with the large grey bracelet on my ankle. It takes some getting used to, but it's not impossible. My foot aches in protest to the movements and I quickly hobble over to the large black chair.

I look to my left and see District Twelve fumbling with her hovercube. She must have watched me use it, but isn't quite sure how to work it herself. I wonder if people in the poorer districts have access to things like hovercubes. But after watching her fumble with it and the fearful look in her eyes as she slides on, I know that they must not.

After a few moments of fumbling, her hovercraft deposits her onto the ground and I watch as she slips off none too gracefully. She let's out a long moan, doubling over and holding her stomach. She manages to take a few steps before falling to her knees. Then promptly rolls over onto her side and wretches all over the floor.

I turn my head, feeling my own stomach go queasy just watching her. Disgusting.

She scoots away from her mess and rolls over to lie on her back on the carpet in the middle of her room.

"Oh dear, you might not want to move around too much. Your body was in pretty bad shape." The nurse has come over to offer her advice to Katniss. It seems a little late considering she just vomited all over the floor. Once I'm sure I won't be sick, I look over in Katniss' direction again and am happy to notice that Katniss has the same grey contraption on her leg as I do. At least they're done playing favorites. For the time being.

"We'll get that cleaned up quickly before the president gets here." The nurse adds. She moves back over to one of the machines and slides her hand across the screen a few times. A few seconds later a panel opens on the side of Katniss' cell, a Swiffer rolls out and glides along the floor right to the mess that Katniss made. I see Katniss lift her head off the ground and watch it. It cleans up the mess in a matter of seconds and moves back to the panel. Disappearing from view without a trace.

Apparently District Twelve doesn't get Swiffers either.

We sit for a long time with no excitement. There's not a sound in our cell except for the noise of the cold air moving in from the vent high on the wall. Katniss doesn't move from her position on the rug, and I stay sitting in my chair. I'm busy prodding my foot to see what hurts and what doesn't, when I look up to see none other than President Snow moving into the room. Strangely he's accompanied by no one. But I suppose he has nothing to fear here with us sitting on the other side of thick plastiglass. I let my foot drop back down to the floor and stand up.

The President reaches over and flips a switch on the center console.

Suddenly my cell is filled with noise from the next room. I hear some kind of constant static with a cryptic beeping noise in the background. Something that sounds like a heart monitor beeps every few seconds as well. I glance over to District Twelve's cell, I wonder if they were making sure she hasn't died, she's lying so stil. I look down to the grey thing wrapped around my ankle. Some kind of heart monitor maybe?

"I'm so happy that you're both doing well!" The President smiles, he honestly does look happy. "I wanted to start by letting you both know that the Hunger Games are on hiatus for the time being." I see Katniss lift her head a few inches off the ground before groaning and letting it fall back onto the rug.

"Why?" I hear my father in the back of my head scold me for speaking to the president before being spoken to. I feel myself grinding my teeth together. Something my old tutors told me to stop doing. They said it makes me look nervous. Something a true victor must never do.

"Several days ago we intercepted a message that led us to believe that enemies of the Capitol had plans to kidnap the remaining victors. We also had reason to believe that the rebels somehow knew where the arena was located. Your families are aware that you are both alive, and they're safe in our custody. The general public have also been alerted to the fact that the Hunger Games are temporarily post-poned."

"So why am I in a cell?" I ask. I know that I'm being extremely disrespectful to pretty much the only person I'm expected to be respectful to, next to my tutors and father. But right now I simply want answers.

"We need to get you back in peak physical condition. You two may have the privilege of aiding your country in a time of great need. We believe-"

"Is my family in a cage too?"

This time the voice comes from the cell next to me. Katniss still hasn't moved from her place on the floor, but apparently she's been listening. I can't believe she just interrupted the President. I almost wince just thinking about the kind of beating the peace keepers would hand out at home for such blatant disrespect towards the president. If she gave a shit about her family she would keep quiet. Doesn't she know what he's capable of? Yes, I've been told my entire life to respect the president and not to doubt him. But I'm not a complete moron. I know of his forms of harsh punishment to those who cross him, obviously punishment is one of the fundamentals of running a country.

"Your family is being kept in very comfortable quarters. And you are not in a _cage_. This is a holding cell, meant to keep you both exceedingly comfortable while still thoroughly protected."

"Sir." I point down at the strange grey thing attached to my ankle, "What are these for?"

"Ah, very perceptive of you Cato," I try to keep my brow from furrowing. Is he joking? How is that perceptive? It's a giant gray cylinder attached to my fucking _ankle_. "Those are called dispensers. Several different pharmaceuticals have been implanted inside and my be dispensed into your blood stream at our discretion. I recommend not attempting to remove them."

"What kind of pharmaceuticals?" I'm supposed to be a tribute. Not a lab rat. And a District 2 tribute at that. "If you don't mind me asking." I throw on to try and sound less aggressive.

"A daily shot of vitamins, a back up sedative in case we have any more problems..." He pauses and looks straight at me, giving me a half smile. "And a few other back up supplies in case they're needed. A pinch of morphling in case your foot is giving you problems. Would you like some now?"

"No sir." I say. Although I'm not sure why. My foot is aching terribly, but somehow asking for morphling makes me feel like I seem weak.

"Very well then." The president pauses for a moment. "Any other questions?" He looks between Katniss and I. Katniss speaks first.

"You were saying earlier that we may be able to aid Panem. How?" She's finally sat up a bit, to actually look at Snow when she asks him.

"Good question." He says. He holds a hand up as he pulls out a small white handkerchief from his jacket pocket, at the same time he flips off the switch that allows us to hear him speak and Katniss and I are enveloped in silence once again. We watch him cough furiously into the handkerchief for a full minute before he wipes his mouth, neatly folds the cloth up and tucks it back into his pocket before flipping the switch to allow us to hear him again.

"Please excuse me." He says simply. "We have reason to believe that the rebels had hopes of using the relationship between the District Twelve tributes to attempt to make the Capitol look cruel and uncaring." He looks over toward Katniss now, "Which of course isn't the case. Obviously we had no idea about Peeta's feelings for you before his name was chosen, and we have absolutely no control over who is chosen in the games. And I do recall the heartbreaking scene of you volunteering for your sister during the reaping." He pauses for a moment to let his speech sink in. "But regardless of all those facts, they have been showing scenes from the Hunger Games on televisions across the country." He pauses again. For a moment I think he may need to cough more, but he simply holds the handkerchief to his lips for a few moments before continuing with his speech. "We may need for you two to appear in a few propros of our own. Showing that you're both proud to represent your districts in the Hunger Games and that you both knew the ramifications of your actions before you both _volunteered_ to compete!"

"That's all?" I ask quickly. I was hoping more for a quick finish to the Hunger Games. I kill Katniss, I am victor. Let the rebels show all the images they want of two dead tributes from District 12. Let them show images of a fake romance over and over. That won't change my title.

"Pretty much." He answers with a smile. "It would help the cause though if you two put your differences aside for the time being. We would like you to appear more friendly during your hiatus from the games. So let's try to keep the bloodshed to a minimum until you're in a new arena if you don't mind."

I smile now, "I can do that I suppose." The president laughs at my joke. I look over to Katniss quickly. Her facial expression hasn't changed. "Are we going to be moved to different living arrangements soon?" I ask while he still seems to be in a good mood.

"Possibly." Is all the answer he gives me. "For now, I would appreciate it if you two simply didn't kill each other. Once you show me you can do that, I will see about getting you two a nice room to share."

My fists clench, sharing a room with the crazy, silver eyed, District Twelve scum is pretty much the last thing I want. But I can't tell Snow this, of course.

"Well," The president looks down at his watch dramatically. "I'm terribly sorry to have to cut this short, but I have many matters to attend to. Squashing a pathetic excuse for a rebellion for one. You two play nice please." And with that he turns and walks swiftly out of the room.

I can feel my fingernails digging into my palms and slowly try to unclench my fists. "I shouldn't be treated like this." I realize a moment too late that I probably shouldn't have said this out loud. But then I hear it, a soft tinkling noise. As strange as it seems, I think it may be coming from District Twelve. I guess although I've never heard her laugh, she must laugh sometimes right? Not that there is much in the poorer districts to laugh about. I storm over to the edge of her cell and grip the metal bars with my hands.

"What are you laughing about fire girl?" I practically spit the words at her. I catch myself grinding my teeth again and shove my tongue between them to stop myself.

The tinkling stops and she tilts her head back to look at me. I can see the trails of tears on her face. Does she never stop crying?

"You're a tribute Cato, they can treat you however they like. They can do whatever they want to you."

My hands grip the bars tighter, I can see my own knuckles going white, I remember my mentor Brutus' scolding me. Telling me to keep my anger under control, that having my emotions be so uncontrollable is a weakness and a curse. I'm not sure if Brutus knows how I'm being treated right now, but if he did know, he would probably be just as angry as I am.

"That may be true when you're from District Twelve, but it's not true for the career districts."

"I suppose being one of the Capitol's pets has its benefits."

My teeth grind on my tongue now, drawing blood. What a horrible, awful, filthy little bitch! She has no idea how lucky she is that there are these bars in between us. "You'd better watch what you say to me _twelve_, the games are only postponed. That means at some point we'll be back in the arena. And I'll do to you the same thing that I did to loverboy." The words come out between clenched teeth. I don't want to lose my control, it's weak.

She says nothing for a long time. Just closes her eyes and takes deep breaths.

"You're not even worth my time." I bark. Annoyed that she didn't have a reply for me. I let go of the bars and turn away from her, stalking back towards my chair. My foot has begun to hurt again from standing for so long.

"Yoddntkilhim..."

I turn, what did she say?

"What did you say?" I stop moving towards my chair, but don't move back toward her either.

She takes a deep breath, then lets it out dramatically, then takes another, "I said, you didn't kill him.."

"Pfft." She's got a few screws loose if she thinks I'll take that bait. Loverboy was my kill. I just stalk back over to my chair. Then after glancing around at my empty cell. I realize that I have literally nothing else to do but take the bait. "Alright fire girl let's hear it. What makes you think I didn't kill him?"

She swallows so loudly I can hear her all the way over here. She takes another slow intake of breath and says simply, "I killed him."

"Uh..." This is particularly strange. You see, I'm used to having something witty to say. I've always prided myself at being pretty clever. One of the reasons that I was chosen to be trained to enter the games at such a young age was because of my cleverness. So the fact that this girl has managed to leave me this confused with one simple sentence has me, well, irritated. "How the hell did you come to that conclusion exactly?" I finally spit out.

I watch her sit up, putting her head in her hand. Brushing away the streams of tears on her face with her sleeve.

I think she's about to answer my question, but instead she simply says.

"What do you think they would do if we refuse to help? Refuse to participate in the propros, or refuse to try and pretend to get along?" She looks like she's genuinely asking me this question. As if I would somehow know more about defying the presidents orders than her. Stupid girl.

"If you're honestly thinking of doing any of that, you're a lot stupider than you look."

Before I finish my sentence she's already turned away from me to lay back on her rug.

What is wrong with this girl.

**xoxo**

That night as I laid in bed, trying to sleep. I hear Katniss whispering with the nurse in our room. They must think I'm asleep, and in their defense it's been quite a while since the lights were turned out.

I can't make out what Katniss is saying, but the not too bright nurse doesn't seem to realize how loud her whispers are when she presses the button to speak to our cells.

"I just want you to be careful, they're monitoring what's being said." She pauses and I hear Katniss say something, but I can't make out what. "I wouldn't try to defy anything they say to do. Even if you didn't want to listen to them... Those things on your ankles are equipped with all kinds of things. Truth serums, pheromones, sedatives-"

"Pheromones?" I actually understand Katniss repeat this word, simply because I was wondering why they would have pheromones in them myself.

The nurse sighs, "Pheromones... Just in case you and Cato can't manage to... Become friends on your own."

Katniss whispers something else, it's driving me nuts hearing only one side of the conversation.

Then the nurse says something that I must be misunderstanding.

"I honestly think they may want for you two to be-" She hesitates for a second then finishes slowly, "much...more than friends. If you seem fickle, as if you could just fall for any guy, as if whatever you and Peeta had going on was nothing special to you, then the rebels don't really have anything to work with. If they think you could just as easily fall in love with the man responsible for the boy you were supposedly in love with..." Here she trails off. I hear Katniss' footsteps across the hard floor. I don't know where she's going. "I'm sorry Katniss. Please don't mention that I said anything. I don't think that he would mind me warning you, as long as it helps persuade you into helping with the mission."

Katniss doesn't reply.

Now I can't stop thinking about what this means for me.

How can they force us to pretend as if we're lovers? I don't want anyone at home thinking I have anything to do with that District Twelve scum. I shouldn't be treated like this. I'm a fucking District Two victor for crying out loud!

Or at least I should be by now.

**xoxo**

**Katniss' POV**

My head won't stop spinning.

How can they expect me to go from one staged relationship to another in little less than a week. How can they expect me to go anywhere near the hard, heartless, cold-blooded, District Two career that forced me to kill Peeta?!

I feel bile rise in my throat and my body convulses with dry heaves against the cold floor of my cell. How can I sit and pretend to be in love with Cato while Peeta's family watch from their bakery back in District Twelve?

And what other horrors can they inflict on my family if I don't comply?

What affect could pheromones have? What could they possibly do?

**xoxo**

**End of Chapter 2!**

**For those of you who don't know, and don't see how amazingly smutty this story just got:**

**Definition of Pheromones: pheromones [( fer -uh-mohns)]  
Small molecules that, when released by one organism, act as chemical signals to induce a certain behavior in another organism. Scents that attract animals to each other in a mating process are ****an example of pheromones. **

**REMEMBER TO REVIEW! Do me a favor, if you like my story... REVIEW IT! The more you review the faster I will UPDATE!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here you go! The much anticipated chapter 3! A lot of filler with the tiniest bit of citrus. Chapters can only get better from here on out! As usual, tell me what you think!**

**Love . Nicolette**

**ox Chapter 3 xo**

**Katniss' POV**

"Good morning tributes!"

A shrill voice wakes me from my dreamless sleep. I'm absolutely positive that they've been drugging Cato and I into sleeping every night, because I almost always fall asleep moments after I watch Kerin, our nurse, mess with the control panel nearest to the door and then leave for the night. And although my days are haunted with memories of what happened in the arena, my nights are somehow always dreamless. And if it weren't for the sleep caught in the corners of my eyes each morning, I wouldn't think I had slept at all.

"I wanted to wake you up a little early to get you dressed and ready to meet your tutors, who will be helping you with the scenes for the propos and help keep you in shape for when the Hunger Games are off hiatus!" Kerin gives us a large, peppy smile that rivals Effie Trinket's and walks away from the console that controls the speaker. Thankfully she left it on so that we can hear what's going on in the room next to us, which somehow makes me feel slightly less trapped.

I wonder if her being so excited about our torture is a facade. She's been so nice the last few nights, giving me little snippets of information that I'm not sure she should be giving me. I'm down to three conclusions. The first being that she is a part of the rebellion effort and is testing to see how receptive I am to helping them in any way. The second, she's one hundred percent with the Capitol and simply trying to weasel any information that I may have known about the rebellion out of me and is feeding me lies to get me to trust her. Or the third most likely option, she's a complete idiot who will most likely be found out for feeding me what little information she does know.

After a few moments of her messing around with the control panel across the room, the same door that a few days ago held that strange robot that cleaned up my vomit, and the same door that I know holds a toilet if I press a smooth nearly invisible button against the wall, today holds a closet. Inside is a small grey and blue jumpsuit that hangs on a simple silver hanger.

"If you wouldn't mind putting the clothes you're currently wearing onto the hanger to be cleaned that would be much appreciated!" She flips the switch off this time from the outside room and we are left in silence.

For the last few days I've successfully managed to completely avoid looking over at Cato's side of the cell, but now I can hear his breathing and a bit of shuffling as he removes his clothes. I look over at the jumpsuit I'm meant to put on and swallow hard.

For some reason changing in front of Cato seems a lot harder than changing in front of my entire prep team. I take a quick glance over at him and catch a bit more of his backside than I ever intended to see, before turning quickly to take my own jumpsuit off of the hanger. If I hurry he won't have time to look over and catch me changing. There isn't much of a chance of him wanting to look over here at me, but there's still some chance that he will. I don't want to look like a complete fool by trying to hide behind the big black chair in my room, so I decide to just change as quickly as possible.

I quickly slip out of everything below the waist, happy to be out of the clothes I've been in for three days, but upset about slipping into a thin jumpsuit sans-underwear. Considering it's the only option I have, I comply. I slip into the jumpsuit up to my waist and grab the hem of my shirt to pull it over my head, but before I remove it completely I look over toward Cato to make sure he isn't looking. And to my surprise, he is. We lock eyes for a moment and he pulls the zipper of his jumpsuit up to his neck before looking away. I don't miss what looks like the tiniest of blushes dance across his features.

This makes me uncomfortable in more ways than one.

I realize I'm being absolutely ridiculous, surely Cato has done much more than look at dozens of women. I hear the rumors about the career districts, they're all hormones and have absolutely no reservations whatsoever when it comes to sex. We've been subjugated more than once to the scenes of tributes fooling around in the arena, not very often, but often enough to leave an impression on a person. And ninety percent of the time it's the careers who aren't ashamed in the slightest.

I turn away from him, my torso towards the wall, before taking a deep breath and, as quickly as I can manage, slipping my shirt off. I frantically reach down to pull the jumpsuit up to cover my breasts. I remind myself that Cato doesn't care in the slightest, but something about letting that monster see me naked and vulnerable turns my stomach the wrong way, even if my body wouldn't be a thing like the girls in the more privileged districts.

"Katniss, dear." I look toward the plastiglass to my right and see Kerin looking into my cell, attempting to talk quietly through the communication system although it's completely superfluous considering Cato stands 15 feet away and has a speaker in his cell as well. "Close your closet door for a second, we're going to send you something else." I move to do as she says, cramming the white capris and t-shirt I've been wearing for the last three days into the door before closing it. "Also, you'll both be allowed to take a shower after the training today! So that's something to look forward to!"

My eyes dart up to the vent that feeds cold seemingly-clean air into mine and Cato's cell. I wonder if we stink and the room she stands in shares a vent with hers. She walks to the control panel, after a few moments of tinkering she shouts,

"Should be ready now Katniss!"

I open the door and see that a small black hairbrush has been placed on a shallow shelf in the closet. I am reluctant to pick it up as Cato is standing near the bars that adjoin our cell, craning his neck to see what I was given that he was not. I pick it up quickly and hide it behind my back, turning to look at Cato with it concealed. His eyes narrow at me and I see the familiar killer that I have been avoiding looking at for days shining through his eyes at last. It's almost cathartic when I see this in his eyes, it helps to remind me exactly what he is, exactly what he's done. It helps me to keep the hate fresh, which is necessary when we know that we'll be in the arena together someday soon.

"What did they give you, fire girl?" He asks, his voice laced with intense indignation. For some reason sending him into another fit by not letting him know what I was given seems like a good idea. After all, there's not much we've been doing the last three days besides sleeping and asking various questions about what's going on of whoever may be in the control room on the other side of the window. Receiving few answers.

I ignore his question and move over to the black chair. I sit down and tuck the brush into the cushions where he won't see, then stand and turn the chair so that the back faces him, then sit back down and begin to attempt to pull the brush from my hair.

"What the fuck?" I hear him say behind me. "Hey!" He shouts louder when I don't respond. The high and wide back of the chair hides my ministrations from his view, I can't help the smile that stretches across my face. Pissing off Cato when he can do nothing about it is fun.

My smile fades, however, when I remember the lifeless face of the boy from District Three after Cato snapped his neck, I realize how terrifying it would be to make Cato angry when he isn't restricted to a cage.

"What the fuck!"

I'm not sure if he's shouting at me or at Kerin in the next room, but I get my answer when he begins pounding on the plastiglass with his fist. "What did you give to her?"

I smile at my immaturity. I don't care that it's petty. He deserves anything I can give him. Which isn't much in this prison.

I don't look to my right, but I can see Kerin in my peripheral vision moving towards the speaker counsel between our cells.

"You need to stop playing around now. Please hurry and brush your hair, Katniss. Your tutors are on their way." She chimes in, but I honestly feel like I detect a hint of laughter in her voice.

"WHAT DID YOU GIVE HER?" Cato shouts, apparently not grasping what she just said. I smile again at his rage. I think of the reason for my treatment of him and it sends a pang of hurt through my chest that wracks me to the core. I stop brushing out my hair and hunch over in the chair my elbows leaning against my knees.

Peeta.

His blue eyes that wanted nothing more than to love and to be loved in return. Did he really feel so strongly about me? Had he really loved me since we started school? What would we be doing if he were here now?

"It's just a hairbrush Cato. Please." Is all Kerin says in response before walking away. High heels clicking against the floor rhythmically. I hear Cato make a noise of annoyance, or perhaps it was a laugh at the fact that I needed a hairbrush, but I can almost feel him move away from the bars behind me.

Not even two seconds later we hear the door open at the far end of the other room. Two men walk in, one in a long flowing blue dress, the other in a finely fitted navy military suit. They walk up to Kerin and talk to her for a few minutes. Simply asking what we've been doing, what we've been told and how much we have yet to be briefed about. She gives them the answers, and they finally walk up to the plastiglass speak to us.

"Hello tributes!" The man in the flowing blue dress holds up his hand at us, he's leaning toward the speaker and talking far far too loud. His voice reverberates around the room and I fight the urge to cover my ears with both hands. I've been deaf in one ear once, and I have no urge to relive it. "My name is Plutarch and not only have I been chosen to take a large part in the next Hunger Games..."

He continues to prattle, but when I take in his sentence, it finally hits me. If the rebels could somehow be successful against the Capitol there wouldn't be another Hunger Games. Snow had said they are using propos of Peeta and I to make it seem like the Capitol is cruel and uncaring, and they are! They took a perfect, innocent, caring boy and inadvertently murdered him. For absolutely no reason whatsoever.

I know now that I can't in any way help with their propos.

"...Perhaps even getting your siblings in on a few propos with you! Showing your reunions since you haven't seen them in such a long time..."

This brings me back to reality, I'll probably have no other option than to comply with what they tell me to do. I wouldn't risk Prim's safety for all of Panem. Literally.

"...So today after your training we'll get you all dolled up and try to shoot something! We have a lovely scene set up on the stage in the auditorium..."

What was that? "Shoot something?" I can't help but ask.

"Err..." Plutarch looks over at the man in military garb standing next to him for help, but receives a shrug in answer.

"They're going to try and make a commercial about you and I to show to the districts. How could you _not _hear him, he's ridiculously loud."

I don't turn my head to look at his cold eyes, but I hear the disdain in his voice. Cato apparently hasn't realized what it could mean if we could somehow get out of participating in their propos. Or perhaps he has and doesn't care. They have everything they could ever want in District Two, because of the Capitol, why would they want the tyranny to end when they're benefiting from it?

The man in the pressed navy suit finally speaks up, "You can call me General. That is my rank, not my name, you do not need to know my name, just that I am your superior. I will be keeping you in shape for your return to the Hunger Games. We will also be working on some team-building exercises that will be recorded and possibly used in the propos as well. Today we're starting out simple, so if you would please exit your cells..." A door opens to my left, the one that usually holds the toilet, but this time it's a long tunnel leading to a white washed room that I can barely make out in the distance. I had wondered many times in the last few days how we were supposed to enter and leave these cells. Although I'm excited to leave my prison, something about walking through this pristine tunnel makes my heart beat quicken. I've never been claustrophobic before, but I don't trust these strange people, I don't trust that I won't go inside and they'll simply close up both openings, leaving me trapped in a long white tunnel with illuminated walls. Forever.

I look over and Cato has already disappeared inside his tunnel. Seeing him doing it takes a bit of my anxiety away, I take a deep breath and step inside my own.

Fear cannot control me forever.

I walk a little too quickly through the tunnel and enter the white room on the other side, it looks almost like a closet back home, except much cleaner and more organized, with more food. Tall shelves line the wall with boxes littering the floor and the shelves themselves. I see several filled to the brim with the breakfast bars they've been feeding me for the last three days, the box that holds them is titled 'weight gain bars'. I roll my eyes.

This room holds another long empty hallway. I walk to the end and stand in a very large room with tall ceilings. Grey walls and matching floors. I look over and see Cato a few feet to my left. It's the first time that he and I have been in a space together without him being chained up or on the other side of iron bars since we were in the hovercraft.

I can't help the fear that once again catches in my chest. How am I to know that he isn't going to walk over and strangle me right now? What would I do? I could do nothing.

"That fear is exactly what we're hoping to at least diminish a bit in our team building training today and every day for the foreseeable future." I turn quickly at the unexpected voice. Plutarch and General have finally arrived.

"Yes, our propos won't be very convincing if you're terrified of one another."

I hear Cato laugh once to my left.

"I am not afraid. There are no bows here."

I'm surprised at this, simply because he leaves room to imply that he would be afraid if there were a bow here. My own eyes narrow this time, he should be afraid.

**xoxo**

**Cato's POV**

She's trying not to act nervous. I can tell.

She's fidgeting when she forgets that we can see her.

Why won't she fucking stop it? How am I supposed to pay attention to what's going on with this lesson, when District Twelve scum keeps fidgeting an inch and a half from my face?

"Cato..?"

My eyes come into focus on General's face, he's obviously been speaking to me, but I can't for the life of me seem to remember what he said.

"I'm sorry sir."

"We're going to need you to pay attention. Are you capable of paying attention District Two?"

"Yes sir." I grit my teeth. I can feel the scum looking at me now, but I don't look in her direction. I hate her. I hate everything that she is and everything that she's taken from me. I hate that she's alive and breathing.

"I feel the need to insert-" Plutarch begins speaking, but is cut off when General gives him a look that speaks volumes.

"There's nothing to insert." He says coldly. Plutarch looks as if he's visibly shrinking away from General, although he doesn't move.

But to my surprise Plutarch gets brave and says his sentence anyway. "It's important that you try to seem, at the very least, amicable with one another. The propos won't have the desired effect if it seems as if you hate each other." General stares him down for a few moments, but doesn't scold him.

They must be insane if they think that's even an impossibility. If I somehow manage to not strangle her, they'll be lucky.

"What is the desired effect of the propos actually supposed to be?" Katniss says her first words that weren't, 'shoot something?' all day. What a strange pathetic girl.

"Well..." Plutarch begins, but looks to General for an answer, he gives none. "...we are trying to show that you're unified in the fact that you're proud to fight in the Hunger Games for your district!"

Katniss doesn't give a response.

I had mostly forgotten about the whispers between our nurse and Katniss from a few days ago. Katniss already knows what the effect of the propos is intended to be. They're supposed to make the rebels see that Katniss is fickle. That whatever romance her and loverboy had or didn't have, meant absolutely nothing. That she could fall in love with anyone, even me.

The thought makes me angry in more ways than one. I shouldn't be subjected to all this nonsense. I shouldn't have to play some stupid part. I was trained nearly my entire life to be a victor, not to be a fucking actor in some stupid commercials.

And where the hell do they get off? Why would being in love with me be such a huge stretch? I feel my teeth grind together, making a loud noise that I hope no one else heard but me. This weak, skinny, malnourished _thing_ next to me would be damn lucky if I gave her the time of day! I've had my fair share of girls, they nearly fall at my feet, knowing that some day I'm likely to be a victor. I have good looks; tall, muscular build, straight white teeth, thick blond hair. I'm strong. Possibly a little unstable. But hey, that's what makes me so mysterious right?

Girls love a little mystery.

People would think there was something wrong with her if she _didn't_ fall in love with me.

This is what I tell myself.

"Let me introduce you to today's training." General gestures to a large contraption sitting in the middle of the room. It looks like a giant hamster wheel inside of a large plastiglass cube. Several faucets hang from the ceiling above the wheel. "We call this the Water Wheel. We put you in, you run. It's as simple as that. As long as you run, the water won't pour out from the faucets from above. If you stop or don't go fast enough, water will pour from the ceiling, slowly filling the cube. You will run until we tell you to stop, if you stop before we tell you, the cube will fill with water and we'll have two less tributes. If you want to test the theory of whether or not we would allow you both to drown during your training," Here he stops speaking for a moment to shrug, "...then all you have to do is stop running and allow the cube to fill with water. But let's just say I wouldn't recommend that. If one of you stop, it will be twice as hard for the other to turn the wheel. If you run quickly enough any water that you collected inside the box will begin to slowly drain." General looks right at me with two beady black eyes, "You're familiar with this Cato?"

I nod my head, trying to block out the images of my very first partner in victory training, Haven. We use a water wheel exactly like this one during our training in District Two. During one of my first months of training, when I was only eight years old, they'd assigned me my first partner to train with. Her name was Haven, she wasn't pretty, but she was strong and fast. She'd been training for a full two years longer than me, since she was six. We were meant to grow up and enter into the Hunger Games together when we turned seventeen. One day they had us use the water wheel, and, because of me, she didn't make it out alive. I almost didn't make it out myself, apparently they found her a bit more expendable than me. They thought I had more potential, or maybe they knew my father wouldn't be very happy about his investment drowning so early in the game. Either way they finally drained the water after Haven had already turned blue.

So began my life as a victor in training.

**xoxo**

**Katniss' POV**

"You have to work together! If you don't work together you won't last very long!" I hear General shouting through the pounding in my ears and the water falling from the ceiling above.

I've just fallen flat on my back for the fifth time since we started running nearly forty minutes ago, the water has risen nearly up to our knees, making it all but impossible to turn the wheel.

"God damn it twelve! Get the fuck up!" I look up through the water dripping into my eyes from my soaked hair to see Cato, actually extending his hand to help me up from the pool of water.

I don't take it.

I try to stand on my own, but Cato refuses to stop running for even a moment. So every time that I try to stand the wheel moves beneath me and I fall back down. And while I'm on the ground, sitting in the pool of water that we've acquired, Cato runs and forces the wheel underneath me, the treads hitting my knees and elbows as I try to stand.

"Cato you have to stop moving!"

"Do you want to _drown?"_ He shouts back, a crazed look in his eyes.

What is wrong with him?

After watching the Hunger Games for my entire life I did come to realize that the careers were usually insane, but Cato takes the cake.

With me weighing the wheel down (and stopping it with my knees whenever Cato forces a tread into them) Cato can't run fast enough. The water level is rising quickly.

"We're both going to drown if you don't let me get up!"

Finally he stops for a moment to reach down and grab me by the arm. Where his fingers bore into my skin I feel a burning sensation grow. Something about allowing this awful excuse for a person touch me in any way makes my skin wish as if it could melt away just to avoid feeling him touch me. I wonder how many people have been murdered by the same hand that yanks on my arm now. He pulls me to my feet and I've barely got my footing before he begins to run again.

But now he's moving too quickly.

I always took myself as a fast runner, but apparently I'm not a strong runner. When I step onto the treadmill and try to push it forward beneath my feet, it barely moves. Cato has no problem. Basically I have to stand and run simply to stay out of his way. But when I can't keep up with his pace, and I'm already horribly out of breath from the last 40 minutes of running, I'm likely to fall again.

"Cato we have to slow it down a little bit."

"We can't."

"We don't have to drain the water we just have to-"

He cuts me off, "Obviously you've never used one of these before, the longer you run, the more water comes in when you stop, we're almost an hour in now, if I don't keep up this pace, it _will_ fill with water before the two hours are up."

"What makes you think it's two hours?"

"They can only set them on two hour cycles. I don't think they'd go any longer with you in here unless they wanted you dead."

I stop for a moment to take in what he said. Would they want me dead? But that thought leaves me when I realize that I just had my first actual conversation with Cato. I don't like that they're tricking me into actually talking to the maniac with 'team-building' exercises. Talking so amicably to the murderer of my friend and ally isn't exactly on my list of things to do.

But it's hard to focus on that when I'm forced to keep running.

And they know it.

**xoxo**

Thanks to Cato being so afraid of drowning, we manage to survive our training, barely an hour later we're standing on a large stage meant to look like the inside of some kind of crudely made hut. A bed of pine needles sits in one corner and a small synthetic fire burns in the middle. The fire doesn't actually burn and it immediately reminds me of the costumes that Cinna made for Peeta and I during the opening ceremonies of the Hunger Games.

Was that really only a few months ago?

They've forced Cato and I to shower and change, simply to put us in rough dirty outfits similar to the ones we wore in the arena and smudge dirt on our faces. And now they're trying to find the best way to make it look like Cato and I are beginning some kind of strange romance.

They want for us to look as if we're sleeping together in this hut. I don't know why it would make sense for us two tributes to be in some kind of strange hut, but they don't tell us much. They've already made us sign a waiver that says we're to be punished if we ever mention to anyone on the outside that anything we act out in these propos was not real.

**xoxo**

**Cato's POV**

"What the fuck do I get out of this? Embarrassment? Being the fucking joke of my entire district? Give me one good fucking reason I should-"

"Because I am asking for your help. To help rub out the rebellion before it has time to spread."

I stop my tirade when I realize who is speaking. I look up to see President Snow walking toward us. Two armed body guards walk a few paces behind him. A horrible stench of roses enters my nostrils and I fight the urge to cough.

"We need your help. And as silly as these scenes may seem to you, we truly believe that they will be very helpful in destroying some of the support that the rebels have managed to gain in the last couple of weeks." He extends his hand to place it on my shoulder. "All we are asking is that you film a few propos. This doesn't seem like too much for me to ask."

I try to keep the anger from showing on my face when I respond.

"I just don't understand why it has to be so... intimate."

What I want to say is, 'I don't understand why I have to touch her.'

"My dear boy." He pats my shoulder again, which seems condescending and thoroughly annoys me, "I can understand why it would be hard for you to go from trying to kill one another to touching so..." Here he pauses and looks to his body guard for support.

"Romantically?" The guard offers.

"Yes, romantically." He smiles and returns his gaze to me. For some reason ignoring Katniss in all of this. "I can understand why it would be hard for both of you to go from attempting to kill each other one week to acting so romantically the next. But luckily we have fitted your dispensers with something that may help you to calm down a bit."

"Pheromones?" Katniss speaks up for the first time since they've been attempting to force us to lay down together.

I watch as the president's eyes suddenly go dark. His eyes narrow and his gaze bores down upon Katniss.

"Yes, Pheromones." He says quietly. Then reaches up to brush a fleck of dust off of her shoulder. He stops for a moment and slouches his head down so that he is eye level with her. "You have beautiful eyes, my dear." He says in almost a whisper. This takes me aback and a flash of Katniss' very silver eyes dances across my vision.

I realize after a moment why might be so upset with her. We aren't supposed to know about the pheromones. I wonder how long it will take before that nurse we've had since the beginning of all this disappears without a trace. It turns out Katniss is a typical woman, can't keep her mouth shut to save someone's life.

I smile openly at my own joke.

Katniss doesn't respond to his compliment. Probably realizing the same thing I just did. The president waits for a heartbeat for a response. When he doesn't get one, he continues,

"I'm just wondering how you may have heard about any pheromones?" He asks point blank.

Katniss begins to shake her head slowly.

"I thought, I mean, when you said calming and-"

"You listen to me now Katniss." Snow cuts her off, sticking his index finger in her face. "Don't _lie_ to me. _Never_ lie to me." He reaches forward and grabs the front of her shirt.

It's this that causes something inside my chest to bubble. All at once I am furious and slightly afraid. All at once I am terrified that he's about to hurt her. Or worse, have her put to death. I'm not at all sure what makes me so afraid. Or what makes me care in the slightest, but the fear is there and very very real.

Katniss dying supposed to be exactly what I want.

I settle the conflict inside of me by deciding that I simply want to kill her myself. But it doesn't change the fact that the Presidents red face and his grip on Katniss' shirt is making me uncomfortable.

"Our nurse told her, when she thought I was sleeping." I say quickly. What do I care what happens to the nurse? Anything can happen to her.

The president slowly relinquishes his hold on Katniss' shirt and let's out a slow sigh while turning his head to look toward me.

"Bring Kerin to my office." He says quickly. At first I think he's talking to me when one of his body guards turns on his heel to walk out of the room, following his command.

Out of the corner of my eye I can see Katniss stiffen. Probably guessing what is about to happen to the nurse.

"You will both do exactly as you are told." He says quickly, pointing toward both of us. "Or you will regret it."

And with that statement he turns and walks out of the room with quick even steps.

**xoxo**

**Katniss' POV**

"Perhaps if Cato laid on his back, with Katniss on top..."

I cringe for the millionth time since they've been suggesting positions for Cato and I to try. I'm sitting on my knees a few feet from Cato staring at my hands in my lap. It's hard to pay much attention or try and play long for my sister's sake when tears still sting my eyes thinking of what is probably happening to Kerin right now because of me.

Yet another death that Cato is responsible for. I never would have told them who told me about the pheromones, even if they probably would have figured it out on their own.

"I think we should give the pheromones a try." General says, obviously impatient with our progress. He walks over to a control panel on the far wall of the room and swipes his hand against the board.

I immediately feel a small pinch in my ankle where the dispenser is attached. A warm feeling begins to flood through my body. I realize that I must have just been injected with the pheromones.

I look over at Cato, who sits on the bed of pine needles with his arm draped over one leg. I wait for my feelings to change for him, I wait to see if something will make me want to sit on his lap like they were asking me to do earlier. But I feel nothing.

"Katniss?" Plutarch asks timidly. I look toward him,

"Yes?"

"Would you mind lying next to Cato please?"

They're all looking at Cato and I like we're about to go wild. They obviously don't know what the effect of the pheromones will be either. I look at Cato, who's looking at me.

"Can we just get this over with please?" He flops back onto the pine needles sending dust fluttering all around him.

I have to admit I'm a little taken aback, a few moments ago he was completely opposed to the idea. Throwing a tantrum and shooting me dirty looks. And now, somehow, with one tiny dose of pheromones, he's suddenly willing to comply.

It makes me sick to my stomach that even someone as strong willed as Cato is so easily coerced to succumb to whatever whim the Capitol has.

"I really don't think I can do this." I say quietly.

I don't take my eyes from Cato, and he doesn't look away either. I begin to feel it then, a strange feeling that I used to relate to Peeta's arms. A sudden urge to move next to Cato, a strange urge to feel someone next to me, to feel him next to me. I wonder if he feels it too.

But I'm not stupid. I am one hundred percent sure that it's the pheromones, considering I felt uncomfortable even being in the same room as him before.

"Maybe we should try a larger dosage?" Plutarch looks toward General for an answer.

"Sure, why not?" He responds before moving to walk over toward the console.

"NO!"

"NO!"

Cato and I look to one another. It's probably the first time we've agreed on anything since meeting.

Our 'tutors' look to me.

"This really isn't that big of a deal, Katniss. They only need it for the propos." Cato says, finally tearing his gaze away from me before laying back onto the makeshift bed again and patting the space next to him. Staring up at the ceiling with his very blue eyes. "I really don't think we need a higher dosage."

It's strange hearing him attempt to console me. It's strange that he's asking me to sit next to him.

It's even stranger that I want to.

So finally I succumb to the will of the pheromones, and in doing so, also succumb to the will of the Capitol. I slowly move over to Cato's side. My mind feels warm and hazy. My body has apparently committed to memory those few times that I laid against Peeta's chest in the cave during the games, because I fall easily into place next to Cato. I feel Plutarch moving beside me, pushing my chin upward to get my head in the perfect spot on Cato's shoulder.

He's ridiculously warm. Somewhere a less foggy part of my mind wonders if he's always this warm.

Plutarch says something, but I don't quite hear him, I hear the breath beating in and out of Cato's lungs. I look up a bit and Cato's eyes are shut closed tight. I wonder what he's thinking of.

I feel Cato's arm snake around my waist and I realize that Plutarch is moving it there. Cato's fingers rest a few inches from below my left breast. Plutarch pushes my leg up so that it's wrapped around one of Cato's legs, I'm slightly embarrassed that I'm pressed so intimately against his thigh, but the sooner we comply the sooner we'll be back in our cages, in separate beds. I feel Plutarch pick up my hand and rest it on Cato's chest. The warmth and hardness of it feels amazing beneath my hand. I resist the urge to explore the rest of his chest with my fingers, although I'm itching to trace the bare skin beneath his thin shirt. Plutarch moves away slowly and speaks again, but I can't seem to focus on what he's saying.

"...eyes..."

It's the only word I make out when Plutarch repeats himself. I realize that Cato and I are supposed to be sleeping in this propo, but my mind doesn't seem to want to let me take my eyes off of Cato's face.

"Close your eyes." Cato chokes out between gritted teeth. Somehow I know he's speaking to me.

My eyes slip close.

I try not to think about the fact that I'm lying down with a bloodthirsty murderer. Cato made my life absolute hell since the day that I laid eyes on him, but in these moments and with the help of drugs, it's too easy to forget.

In these moments, with my mind blinded by the pheromones, I realize the real reason I didn't shoot Cato while he battled those mutts in front of the cornucopia. Because he is a bloodthirsty killing machine, yes. But he's simply another victim of circumstance. I honestly don't know if he chose this life. I don't know if he chose to grow up and murder other children for fame. I don't know a single thing about him. It isn't him who forced those children to die in the arena. It wasn't him who threw us into an arena and told us to kill or be killed.

I tell myself in these moments, as I feel the warmth of his arm begin to seep through the fabric of my clothes and into my skin, that I will get to know him better before we are forced to kill one another.

I will gather as much evidence as I can before I pass judgement on this man.

I slip my eyes closed and Cato's strong arm flexes as it tightens around me. Feeling safe for the first time in weeks. The pheromones are a curse... and in a small way, a blessing.

**xoxo**

**Cato's POV**

"I heard you guys did very well today!" Kerin stands smiling at us once we've showered and returned to our holding cells. I wonder why she's been allowed to continue working after Snow heard about her telling us about the pheromones. My mind was freed of the effects of the pheromones after I... took care of things ...in the shower. But I can't help but remember how out of control I was.

It took every ounce of self-control that I had to simply shut my eyes tight and place my arms exactly where Plutarch laid them. He had moved her thigh to rest over one of my legs and I felt the heat of Katniss' core pressed against my thigh.

I can't remember wanting anything more in my life.

That night as I lay in my bed, my mind plays over dangerous images of Katniss and I away from the cameras, her on top of me, me deep inside of her. Hands on her hips as she rides me, as she calls my name over and over.

Perhaps I was wrong.

Perhaps the effects last much longer than we were told.

**xoxo**

**There you have it! Sorry it took so long! I want to jump into the smut, but the plot yells at me and I'm forced to write long elaborate chapters to get you used to their day to day. At least I got in a bit of the effects of the pheromones in this chapter, and I hope they don't seem OOC at all.**

**This is getting a lot harder to write than I thought it would be, but I'm not about to stop now!**

**As usual, the more reviews the faster I update!**


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